


Unruly Heart

by asexualjuliet



Series: Note to Self: Don’t be Gay in Indiana [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Coming Out, Gay Will Byers, Gen, Jealousy, Second Person Narration, Will struggles with his feelings, hell yeah it’s loving second person narration hours, poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 19:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualjuliet/pseuds/asexualjuliet
Summary: “Her name’s Eleven,” Mike says. “But she’s gone now.”There’s a sadness in his eyes when he says it, and you’d be sad too if you lost your new friend, you think, but why does the way Mike says ‘Eleven’ make you feel sick?
Relationships: Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Steve Harrington, one-sided Will Byers/Mike Wheeler - Relationship
Series: Note to Self: Don’t be Gay in Indiana [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614571
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	Unruly Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The result of many nights spent thinking about Will Byers and his unruly heart.  
> A few of these passages/scenes are taken from my other works, “Love Yourself” and “Love,” which is why I’ve put all three works in a series.
> 
> Title from “Unruly Heart” from The Prom.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! <3

The girl in the pink dress is a light in the darkness, the first person to talk to you in days.

She has no hair, and you’re sure the dress she’s wearing is the one Mike spilled fruit punch all over when Nancy was wearing it on her ninth birthday.

The socks she wears are green-and-yellow striped, just like the pair Mike used to wear with his white Converse all-stars…

Which are currently residing on this girl’s feet. You can tell because of the purple stains on the shoes from when he spilled grape juice all over your kitchen floor, because of the scuffs on the toes that you used to look down at when you couldn’t look at Mike’s pretty brown eyes for any longer. 

“Your mom is coming for you,” she says, her voice light and soft, as if she hasn’t used it for a while. “Just hold on a little bit longer.”

There’s pleading in her eyes, and somehow this girl you’ve never met is providing you the most sense of home you’ve felt in what feels like forever.

There’s so much you want to say to the girl, to your mother, to _Mike,_ who you’re sure is behind the girl’s mismatched outfit, but your voice is weak and hoarse from the time you’ve spent in this place with its toxic air.

“Hurry,” you croak, and the monster outside roars.

The girl in Nancy’s dress and Mike’s shoes disappears then, and you’re alone.

-

“We made a new friend,” they tell you as you lay in a hospital bed, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that this friend is the girl in the pink dress.

“Her name’s Eleven,” Mike says. “But she’s gone now.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes when he says it, and you’d be sad too if you lost your new friend, you think, but why does the way Mike says _Eleven_ make you feel sick?

-

“Did she wear a pink dress?” you ask your mother when the party leaves. “Eleven, I mean?”

She gives you a sad smile and nods her head. 

“I saw her,” you say, “in the Upside Down.”

“I know,” your mother says softly. 

“She said—she said you were coming for me.”

“I know,” your mom says again. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and she hugs you tight. 

-

They talk about her a lot.

“El was a total badass,” Dustin says, awe in his voice, “Seriously, dude, she saved all our asses.”

“She was kind of weird,” Lucas says when you ask about her, “but she was cool. I miss her.”

Mike doesn’t mention her.

He doesn’t go in the pillow fort in the basement anymore, and he doesn’t play with Rory the t-rex.

“What was she like?” you ask one day when you’re doing homework on your bedroom floor. “Eleven, I mean.”

Mike freezes. 

“Eleven,” he repeats in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to—” you say, but he cuts you off.

“She was perfect,” he says, and the way he says it is more honest than he’s said anything in a long time. “And she was pretty, she was—God, Will, she was so cool. I miss her so fucking much.”

“She’s just lost,” you tell him. “Just missing, Mike. She’s not gone.”

You don’t know how you know it, but you’re pretty sure you do. The way they talk about her, like she’s the strongest, coolest person they’ve ever met. There’s no way she’s gone forever.

“Yeah,” Mike says, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you.

-

You draw her sometimes. 

No hair, pink dress, yellow-and-green striped socks, white Converse all-stars with grape juice stains on them. 

“She was pretty,” Mike had said, and so you draw her pretty. 

(You wish you knew what made a girl pretty).

-

The way he says her name breaks your heart, so soft and gentle and sad. _El._

“Eleven would understand,” he tells you after he finds you on Halloween, slips his steady hand into your trembling one and walks you home.

“She would?” You ask, because you _need_ an Eleven, someone who would understand.

“Yeah,” he says. “She always did.”

You wish he said your name the way he said hers.

\- 

“Did Mike love her?” you ask Lucas one day.

“Yeah,” he says, without even hesitating. “Yeah, he did.”

“Oh,” you say, the words hollow. You feel vaguely sick, and you have to turn away from Lucas to wipe tears out of your eyes. 

_You shouldn’t be sad,_ you tell yourself. _It’s not like he’d ever love you back._

Still, you cry. 

-

You used to love the way Mike said your name. 

_Will!_ he’d say, calling to you from across the playground, and it was like the words were full of love. 

_Maybe,_ you used to think, _he loves you the way you love him._

And then you got lost. He met a little girl in a pink dress. 

And everything changed. 

-

She’s back, they tell you when you wake up. The girl who saved all their asses a year ago is back. 

“I’m Will,” you say, one of the few moments Mike leaves her side that morning. 

“I know,” she says. “I’m El.”

Her voice is a little stronger than the last time you heard it. You figure she’s probably talked more in the last year than in the whole rest of her life. 

“I know,” you say. 

“You were brave,” she says, brown eyes fierce and true. “In the Upside Down. I saw you.”

“I know,” you say again, because the last thing you remember from the Upside Down is a girl in a pretty pink dress telling you to hold on just a little bit longer. “Thank you.”

You spread your arms out, tentatively asking for a hug. She looks at you for a second and accepts. “Welcome,” she mumbles, and not even a few seconds later, Mike’s back by her side. 

He slips his hand into hers the way he used to do with you, and you try to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach. 

-

Mike kisses the girl in the pretty blue dress and you feel like you’re drowning. 

Drowning in fear, drowning in jealousy. Drowning in love. 

You can’t take your eyes off them. They’re so damn happy that it makes you want to cry or throw up or both. 

You feel sick, and if you have to spend one more minute with your hands on Jenny Meyers’ waist, you might just lose it here and now. 

“Excuse me, I just forgot, I have to—”

Jenny takes her hands from your neck and you go outside as fast as he can. 

You shakily sit down on the school’s front steps, taking deep breaths of the cold winter air. Tears make their way down your face before you can stop them.

“Byers! You okay?”

The door of the nearest car opens to reveal Steve Harrington, because of _course_ it does. 

“I’m fine,” you say, but your voice is so shaky that you can tell he doesn’t believe you. 

“I didn’t feel good. I—I’m fine.”

It’s not technically a lie, because the sick feeling in your stomach is still eating away at you, and you _just want to go home,_ but you can tell Steve still doesn’t believe you, because he just sits down next to you and wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, the way your mom always does when you cry. 

“You know you can tell me,” he says. “I’m like, the babysitter or some shit now, right?”

You smile and let Steve put an arm around your shoulder. 

It feels nice, and you trust Steve, so you ask him, “Do you ever feel weird?”

“Weird?” he asks, tilting his head toward you. 

“Like…” you start. “Like, have you ever wanted to be happy for someone but you can’t, no matter how hard you try?”

“Yeah,” Steve says immediately, and you can tell by the way his eyes flit to the window behind you that he’s talking about Nancy. 

There’s a silence. You take a deep breath and ignore the tightness in your chest, ignore the voice in your head telling you to _shut up, Will, please don’t do this._

“It’s just... Mike and El are so happy, and I wish so hard that I could be happy for them…” you say, and you can feel yourself about to cry. 

“Byers?” Steve says softly, in a voice that reminds you of Jonathan’s when he’s talking you down from a panic attack. 

“Yeah?” You say, voice cracking. 

“Do you like Eleven?”

 _God,_ you wish you did. She’s the coolest girl you’ve ever met (second to only Max), and things would be so much better if you did. But—

“No,” you whisper, and your eyes blur with tears. 

Steve looks at you for a second, takes in the teary eyes and red face. 

“Do you like… Mike?” he asks, and that’s what does it. What breaks the dam behind your eyes and sends you into a fit of full-body sobs. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Steve says in that soft voice, pulling you closer. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs as you sob into his shoulder, and _God,_ you wish he was right but how can you know?

“I wish I didn’t,” you say, choking on your tears, “I wish I didn’t.”

“I know,” he says, and he rubs your back as you sob. 

-

“Why don’t you like me?” El asks you one day, when Hopper brings her over as an excuse to see your mom. 

She’s eating raspberries off her fingers, but her big brown eyes have something like hurt in them, and you don’t like the idea that you’re the one making her look so sad. 

“I do,” you say, but she just shakes her head. 

“Why?” she asks. 

And you do like her. You like her, and you like Mike. 

You really don’t like the idea of her _and_ Mike. 

“I like you,” you say, “Really, I do.”

She raises an eyebrow. 

“I do, really. El, you’re so cool, but—”

“But?” she says, urging you on. 

“You used to not like Max, right?”

El shrugs. “I thought she liked Mike.”

“Right,” you say, voice shaky. “And that made you feel jealous, right?”

El nods. “I like Mike.”

“Me too,” you whisper, and El’s mouth forms a little “o”

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “Okay.”

She says it like it’s that simple, and you want to cry, because it’s _so totally not._

“You can’t tell anyone,” you say, and you can hear the panic creeping into your voice. 

“Okay,” she says again, back to sticking raspberries on her fingers. 

“Be-because some people think that boys who like boys are bad,” you explain, “and I—you really can’t tell anyone. Please.”

El nods. “I won’t.”

“Thanks,” you say. 

“You’re not bad,” she says. “You’re bitchin’.”

You laugh. “Thanks,” you say, and she grabs your hand and squeezes it. 

And maybe it’s okay that Mike will never say your name the way he says hers, that he’ll never look at you the way he looks at her. 

Maybe it’s okay that he’ll never think about you the way he thinks about her, the way you think about him. 

Maybe your feelings will fade, ‘till all that’s left is your best friend in the world and his bitchin’ girlfriend. 

But even if they don’t, it’s still pretty cool to have both of them by your side. 


End file.
